


The Full Doctor

by amo_amare



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Kink Meme, Multi, Smut, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amo_amare/pseuds/amo_amare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rory is offended at the Doctor stripping off in front of him and Amy during The Eleventh Hour, the Doctor is hurt.  Amy decides to make it right and arrange a little private performance...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Full Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Light and fluffy smut; no actual sex.
> 
> Written for (surprise!) the Eleven-era kinkmeme [eleventy_kink](http://community.livejournal.com/eleventy_kink/) for the prompt: "Eleven sure didn't seem to mind stripping off in front of Amy and Rory in "The Eleventh Hour". He even seemed a little affronted that Rory was put off by it. So I want Eleven determined to strip in front of Rory and make him like it. Even if that involves Amy having to tie Rory to the bedposts first."

"Oh, come ON, Rory, it's his BIRTHDAY!"

Despite Amy's best-practiced pout, Rory was not buying it. "His birthday? He's 907! I should think he'd be over it by now. Besides, if it's _his_ birthday, shouldn't someone be stripping for _him_?"

Amy's smile widened; "Well, if you're offering…"

"No! Not, never…no! Why are you so keen on this, anyway?"

Her eyes softened, and her face took on a more serious expression. "You know this is a new body for him; he's just a little—self-conscious. When you first met him and you got all offended when he started taking his clothes off, well…it hurt his feelings."

All he could do was stare. When her expression didn't change, he thought maybe she was serious. "I hurt his feelings," he reiterated dryly.

Amy nodded, still completely in earnest. "Yes! Yes, you did; he's brought it up several times, actually—I don't think he's going to get over it, not unless we do something to fix things."

"To fix things?" Rory was incredulous. "What is there to fix? Why does it matter so much to him what I think?"

The teasing smile was back. "He likes you!" she answered coyly. "He likes you—'a lot!' His words, by the way."

"Ok, now this conversation is officially over…" Rory started to back away, seeking the quickest exit to the bedroom they shared.

Before he could escape, Amy grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to her. "Not so fast, Mr. Pond!" She kept a tight grip on his wrist with one hand, and with the other she reached up to brush a wisp of hair off his face. "We've got a good thing going here; we are traveling through time and space, having amazing adventures, and it's all because of him! He's given us so much; the least we can do is make him happy."

"Yeah, but Amy, this is ridiculous…"

"Maybe it is; but one of my boys isn't happy, and I'm sorry, honey, but I just can't have that…" She leaned into him for a kiss, and automatically he complied, sinking into the feel of her like a key fitting into a lock. She deepened the kiss, stroking along his jaw line, and slowly all awareness of his surroundings faded as his world became wet heat, soft touches, and…the cold, hard click of metal encircling his wrist.

His eyes sprang open. "Amy, what…?" But it was too late; she'd already managed to lock one side of the handcuffs around his wrist, and, even as he protested, she pushed him back against their bed and fastened the other end around the iron bedpost.

She stood there, beaming at him, eminently proud of herself.

He was not amused. "I thought I'd hidden your handcuffs after that last time…"

"Oh, please!" she said with an eye roll; "as if I don't know all your hiding places! Sock drawer? Very original!"

Still not amused, Rory began an examination of the bed frame, trying to determine how difficult it would be to disassemble it and free himself.

Amy watched his scrutiny with amusement, then announced, "While you're doing that, I'll just go and tell the Doctor we're ready…"

"You what?! Amy, no…Amy, wait!" But she was skipping out the door without a glance over her shoulder.

It didn't take him long to realize that escape was going to be impossible; instead of some Tab A, Slot B Ikea nonsense, the bed frame was solid iron. The only way he was going to free himself was with Amy's handcuff key, if she even knew where it was. The only thing to do was to sit himself down on the bed and wait.

The Doctor must have been waiting for them, because it wasn't long before Amy returned leading him by the hand. "So, are you going to need music or anything?" she asked, ignoring her husband handcuffed to the bed.

"Music…" he mused, as if considering the concept for the first time; "yes, I do believe some music will be helpful."

"Ok, well," Amy went on, moving over to a slim white iPod left lying on a table by the bed. "What sort of music do you want? I've got the classics—Al Green, Barry White, Marvin Gaye, etc. I think I've got the Full Monty soundtrack on here—or some house slash techno if you're feeling edgy. A bit of jazz if you just want something instrumental…"

"Oh, my God…" Rory moaned in the background, but his companions took no note.

The Doctor chewed his lip in thought. "I think…I think you should pick. Surprise me!"

Amy smiled; "I've got just the thing! Rory made this mix for me one Valentine's Day…" she plugged the device into the speakers and pushed "play".

"Amy!" Rory shouted from his position on the bed. "Is nothing sacred?"

"Oh, hush!" she directed at him over her shoulder, as the strains of "Let's Never Stop Falling in Love" began to float through the room. "Doctor," she continued, turning to him with a smile, "the floor is yours." She walked across the room and took a seat on a chair by the wall, leaving the Doctor standing by himself in the middle of the room.

Rory's eyes followed her with an expression of desperation and panic. When he returned his attention to the Doctor, he was alarmed to see the man already starting to remove his jacket.

"Rory," he said, slowing freeing his arms from their tweed embrace; "I have very few rules. Chief among them is: there is no shame in the Tardis: not for yourself, or for anyone else. I love this body! I need you to love it, too."

He wasn't sure if the Doctor was using some sort of alien hypnosis on him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Distantly, he heard Amy shift in her chair just five feet away from him. When he was able to pull together enough willpower to speak, he was surprised at the crack in his own voice. "But, why?" he croaked.

The Doctor stretched his braces, then let them snap back against his chest. "Because," he answered, "your body is the outward expression of yourself. I think you're a beautiful person, Rory; I accept you inside and out. I want you to feel the same way about me."

At that moment, "Hypnotize" by the Notorious BIG began pumping across the Tardis's walls. The Doctor felt the groove immediately, moving his hips to the beat and favoring Rory with a smile. "And now, no more talking!" he added, as he started on his bowtie.

"Hallelujah!" Amy shouted from her position off to the side.

A million thoughts raced through Rory's head. Since he'd met the Doctor, a great number of impossible things had occurred: he'd traveled through time in a police box that was bigger on the inside; he'd been turned to plastic and spent two thousand years guarding his mostly-dead love locked inside a giant puzzle box; he'd died and come back to life; twice! But the most surreal and bizarre of them all was the sight of a 900 year-old Time Lord ripping off a blue silk bowtie and waving it 'round his head like a cowboy with a lasso.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Rory moaned, and the slightly green hue he'd taken on only seemed to confirm his observation.

The Doctor faltered, hurt clouding his bright green eyes.

Amy was quick to the rescue. "He didn't mean it!" she insisted. "He's just shy about these things: you know how he is! He just needs to get into it; seduce him!"

"I don't know, Amy; maybe it's a latent heterosexual bias. Maybe he just can't respond to blokes!"

"No, no," Amy assured him; "I told you: he has a healthy interest in blokes."

Rory's eyes shot to Amy. "You know about that?"

She shot him a pitying look. "I have two words for you, dear: sock drawer!"

Rory blushed, and the Doctor grinned, and at that moment "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails came up on the mix.

A look of determination took over the Doctor's all-too-expressive face; he looked like a man on a mission. His eyes locked with Rory's, and he began unbuttoning his shirt in time to the pulse of the music. He grabbed the clasp of one brace and then another, releasing them and letting them spring over his shoulders. All the while, he moved closer to Rory's position on the bed, never once breaking the other man's gaze.

Rory swallowed, and was surprised to find a sizable lump in his throat. The beat of his heart seemed to throb throughout his entire body, and his head buzzed with a light, cool heat that felt feverish and damp. 'Oh no," he thought, 'has he done some weird, psychic, alien mind-control thing to me, or am I actually getting turned on?"

Amy and the Doctor seemed to see what he felt; the Doctor smiled, a seductive, predatory smirk and Amy let out a sigh. "Oh yeah, baby…told you he was into it!"

The Doctor was now standing right next to the bed Rory occupied, facing him and the wall where Amy had seated herself out of the way. He shot her a conspiratorial wink, before sliding the shirt down over his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Standing there is his vest, he kicked off one shoe, then the other; and then he started on his trousers.

"Oh, ok, I think it's time to stop this now…" Rory was starting to become extremely nervous—nervous and turned-on and nervous _about_ being turned-on. He didn't know what the end game of this little performance was, and when the Doctor undid the zip on his trousers and slid them down over his hips, Rory was presented with evidence that this was more than just a game of show-and-tell for the Doctor.

"Oh, my…" Amy observed, reminding the men of her presence.

Rory shot her a glare. "Amy!" he hissed. "Married, remember?"

"You might want to remind yourself there, big boy," she teased, drawing attention to the bulge in Rory's jeans to match the Doctor's own display. Self-consciously, Rory grabbed a pillow with his free hand and placed it over his lap.

The Doctor, standing there in his boxers, vest, and a ridiculous pair of argyle socks, was very pleased with the results his little show was producing. He paused for a moment to listen to the song that had come up: _I don't want somebody to love me, just give me sex when-ever I want it…_ "A surprising choice from Mr. Romantic, isn't it, Amy?"

She giggled, and Rory protested: "It's IRONIC!"

It was the Doctor's turn to laugh. "Oh yes; nothing sexier than irony!" He'd picked up the beat, though, and seemed determined to finish his routine. He ran one hand up underneath his vest and across his midsection while the other he reached out to stroke across Rory's jaw line; the other man almost forgot to flinch, he was so riveted by the tantalizing glimpses of smooth, taut stomach peeking out at him.

The Doctor smiled at the heat he could feel radiating off of Rory's skin. That was one of the best things about humans: they were so warm! Especially when they were aroused, as this one seemed to be, despite his protests. He nearly laughed at the look of wide-eyed desire the young man treated him to when he finally pulled the soft white fabric over his head, baring his chest. Amy was right; he was silly to worry about Rory being repulsed by him. If he was reading the signals right, Rory was anything but.

"Take off the socks!" Amy shouted from the chair, breaking the trance that held the two men captive in each other's gaze.

The Doctor complied, sitting down on the edge of the bed just inches from Rory. He peeled off one garment, then the other, swinging each around his head before flinging them across the room. When his feet were bare, he stood up to face Rory, only an arm's length away. There was nothing left to shed but his boxers.

He hooked one thumb under the waistband, and ran it 'cross the length of his stomach. Rory made a small, strangled noise in his throat, and Amy hummed appreciatively; the Doctor was surprised by the timbre of lust that colored Amy's reaction. He'd been so focused on Rory, he'd forgotten she was also watching his little striptease, and had already proved herself susceptible to his charms.

He looked at her now, and noticed her eyes were dark with lust. One hand perched at the top of her thigh as if aching to dip lower. Her bottom lip was help captive between her teeth, and her gaze shifted back and forth between the bulge in her husband's trousers, and the Doctor's thumb in his waistband. When her eyes met his, she smiled approvingly.

"Amy, my dear," he began, an idea occurring to him, "would you like to do the honors?" He gestured down to the last lingering item of clothing standing between him and them. "That is, if your husband doesn't mind…"

Rory barely hesitated before blurting out, "Oh God, just please, somebody get him naked!"

Amy's eyes lit up like a little kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, I knew I married the perfect man!" She was up and behind the Doctor in a flash, scouting the best angles to both observe the action, and put on the best show for her ever-so-obliging husband.

Standing beside the Doctor and just off to the side so she could watch Rory's face, she rested her hands on either side of the Doctor's waist. "Are you ready, boys?"

Rory nodded, and the Doctor grinned. Licking her lips, she moved her hands lower to grasp the cool, smooth fabric of his undergarment. Counting a mental _one, two, three…_ she pulled the concealing garment down, letting it drop to the floor.

"Oh, God...nngh!" Rory grunted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall.

Tearing her eyes away from the "not-so-little Doctor", Amy searched her husband's face in surprise. "Did you…did you just…come in your pants?"

The sheepish blush that rose to Rory's face gave her her answer. "That is so…so…HOT!" she said, moving to the bed to claim his mouth in a kiss.

"Now THAT," the Doctor grinned, "is the sort of acceptance I was looking for."


End file.
